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Aaron chuckled. “Just us three slackers. My brothers seem to be managing just fine.”
I watched him closely, searching for a blip in his expression as he talked about his family, but there was none.
“How many brothers do you have again?” Ms. Jennings asked.
“Five. Two of them are on the board of directors, the other three are heads of other departments. We’re a family who loves travel, as it turns out.”
Ms. Wits leaned in. “Are you the head of your own department?”
This time, Aaron answered by merely nodding.
Both Annalise and Michael were watching Aaron, as if checking for his response. If it hadn’t been for them, I might’ve not realized something was out of place.
“Aaron,” I found myself saying, breaking decorum and gathering everyone’s attention. The conversation broke off awkwardly.She can speak?I imagined they thought. “Have you played the piano for Fiona yet?”
And the distraction worked. The ladies lit up with excitement.
“The piano!”
“You play?”
“Oh, play something!”
“Yes, you should play for us!” Ms. Jennings grabbed his arm and pulled him from Fiona’s grip, tugging his semi-unwilling feet with ease. “You’d be the first one of us who’s touched the thing. At least, the first of us who knows what they’re doing.”
Caroline frowned. “I used to play every party, Ms. Jennings.”
Ms. Jennings’s placating smile was dim. “Yes, yes, I know, sweetheart. I meant what I said.”
Caroline turned to Annalise, who just gave her a sympathetic smile. “You didn’t have enough lessons to be any good, Care.”
Aaron, through it all, only stared at me. Ever so slightly, he raised an eyebrow. “I’m more curious to hear you play,” he countered, glancing around the women. “You don’t happen to have a cello lying around, do you?”
I could’ve gasped. For a moment, no one spoke, all lingering in the same realm of confusion. Annalise turned to me, brows drawn together. “You play the cello?”
“Why, you should’ve told us earlier!” Ms. Jennings exclaimed. “We could’ve replaced the scratchy covers Fran finds online ages ago!”
I stared Aaron down, something warm lighting underneath my skin. His words, whether he intended for them to or not, said many things at once. It was a secret I’d shared with him that I used to play the cello. It also spoke of something more between us—that I would’ve confessed something like that to him. Open for misinterpretation.
“I don’t know where you heard that, Mr. Astor,” I said slowly, aware of everyone’s eyes on me. Caroline almost looked betrayed, features screwed up into a frown I’d never seen before. “I’m afraid I don’t play.”
“I heard you used to,” he countered. “But not anymore.”
I forced myself to hold still. “Not anymore,” I confirmed.
“I—I don’t think we have any cellos,” Mrs. Holland said, clasping her hands in front of her. “But, Aaron, we’d love it if you played, if you’re feeling up to it.”
“You should do it, Aaron,” Annalise encouraged.
That shameful thought arose again—I wanted to hear Aaron play. Ever since the first time we met. The night in June when we’d talked about music seemed like forever ago, but that part, I remembered with perfect clarity.
Emotional expression is everything to me when I play.I wanted to hear it. I wanted toseeit. When Aaron met my eyes, I nodded, ever so slightly.You should.
“What shall I play?” Aaron asked. He still had yet to look away, the inquisition directed solely at me.
“The piece of your heart.”
He knew what the piece of mine was. Elgar’s Concerto. And in that same line of shameful thinking, I wanted to know his.